Jim Darkmagic

Jim Darkmagic appears here, in his first comic at Penny Arcade - a comic we are prepared to expand upon substantially, if this is your collective desire. Of course, that mat not be your collective desire. It may be that you saw Lookouts last Wednesday, investigated the additional materials, and found something resonant there. It is also entirely possible that something in Automata appealed to you - perhaps you feel, as we do, that androids and prohibition are natural fellows. You have a choice to make.

We have invented a machine to catalog your will, and it awaits your input. We’ll leave it up for twenty four hours or so, assess the situation, and deliver you a full report. Gratification won’t be instant, by any means: in a subversion of everything the Internet represents, the comics would run in late July. Based solely on Twitter feedback, Automata seems to be the front runner. As I said, I think we could give you something noteworthy on all three concepts. Also, no matter what you picked, you can’t actually lose: we’ll try to come back to all of these eventually. We aren’t foolish enough to commit to a timeline, but there’s a reason we put them in front of you. Eventually, we won’t be able to resist.

I’m sort of between games at the moment. Kiko and I were attempting to play Demigod fairly regularly until we played an online match that went so incredibly wrong that I can’t bring myself to execute the application anymore. It was harrowing on that level. The “tug of war” in the game is exhilarating, but once that phase is over, it’s like being dragged behind a truck.

Whenever I am not imagining the ways in which your three comic options can resolve themselves, I am trying to fashion my mind into something capable of perceiving Knights in the Nightmare. Another psychotic import with an incredible translation from Atlus, the shit that goes on in this game will overwhelm your frontal lobe, leaving you in a state which is neither dead nor alive. Imagine that a man is juggling while standing on a pile of conscious, scowling heads. Only he’s not juggling balls, he’s juggling concepts, like poverty and flavor. As you watch him, you are shaken by the unprovable yet unnerving sensation that there is, somewhere, a secret third hand, juggling a perverse cadre of unballs.